


Love After Death

by woollen_pharaohs



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: 10 years later, Aged-Up Character(s), F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Other Skam (Norway) characters mentioned but only tagging those with speaking roles, Repressed Lesbian Noora, bisexual eva, sorting out drama through dialogue in the classic skam way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23763727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woollen_pharaohs/pseuds/woollen_pharaohs
Summary: (Set 10 years later, so they are about 28.)Jonas's funeral calls Noora back to Oslo. After the funeral, the girls agree that they can’t let Eva go home without them. One night with five women in Eva’s house turns into two, into three. Then, somehow, it’s just Noora and Eva.
Relationships: Eva Kviig Mohn/Noora Amalie Sætre
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Love After Death

**Author's Note:**

> So I went on ao3 to look for Noora/Eva fic and happened to see the title of '[15 years later](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22480615/chapters/53716813)' by rent_a_rose and despite not having read that fic, I became obsessed with the idea of where the Skam girls would have found themselves in the future. Being upfront, I don't know if there are any other fics like mine, but as Skam fans, we all love a bit of the same thing slightly differentiated. There's something to love in each! 
> 
> Anyway~ this story made me laugh and cry while writing it so I hope you like it too :)

Noora slips her hand into Sana’s when they walk into the little chapel where Eva and Jonas’ friends and family have gathered to send off the death of Eva’s husband. None of them can keep it together when they see Eva. Her red hair has frizzed, her makeup has smudged around her eyes. Eva’s appearance reminds Noora of the first time they met, but this time, no joke Noora can think of could make this situation any better. 

They sit together on the pew; Eva in the middle of Noora and Chris, banked by Vilde and Sana, and little six year old Isak who won’t let go of Eva’s legs. Her son’s namesake delivers a speech that manages to make them laugh, and cry, and Noora walks out of the church into the crisp Autumn air with her heart feeling heavy with the tragedy but equally as heavy with the love from their beautiful friendships. 

Behind the little chapel is an extensive garden with pebbled pathways that weave through the flowering bushes with no rhyme or reason, like a spiralling maze. She chooses a path and looks for shade as she walks down the winding route, walking further and further away from the happenings of the funeral. Eventually she finds a wooden bench shrouded by a bush with small pink flowers dotted all over, and she lies down on the slats to look up at the blue specks of sky that peep through the gaps between the leaves. 

After some time of lying there, she hears a set of footsteps crunching across the path nearby. 

“Where did she go?” Vilde questions.

The footsteps travel along the ring of path adjacent to the nook Noora found, and then stops exactly opposite her, the space divided by the enormous tybast bush. 

“Do you think she’s okay?” Vilde asks her companion. 

“Probably not,” Sana responds. 

Vilde makes a distressed sound. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for any of us to be alone right now.”

“Some people need to be alone to process,” Sana says. 

“Well, you go back to the others. I’ll find Noora.”

“Why do you want to find her? Just let her breathe,” Sana says, bless her heart. 

Vilde pauses. “I have to tell her something.”

“Tell her what?”

Another pause. Noora strains to decipher the whisper that Vilde relays to Sana, but hears nothing except Sana’s response which is to let out a gasp. Feet shuffle on the pathway, and joyous laughter ensues. 

“Sh, sh,” Vilde laughs, shushing Sana’s excitement. “I don’t want to announce it to the whole world.”

“Why not? You were about to tell Noora before me!” Sana points out. 

“Because it’s disrespectful… and… bad luck to announce it on the day of a funeral. And I don’t want to call him Jonas if it’s a boy!”

Sana laughs. “Why would you do that?”

“Because Eva named Isak after her and Jonas’ best friend!” Vilde insists.

“Was Jonas your best friend?”

“No…”

“Then nobody is going to expect you to do that.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but what makes sense to you? Your friends being happy with whatever you name your child or your friends judging you for not naming your child after someone you didn’t have a close relationship with?” Vilde’s silence prompts Sana to continue, “Now let’s go back. Noora will come to us when she’s ready.”

Noora sees the silhouettes of Sana and Vilde through the bush disappear the further they walk away. A small smile grows on her face as she plucks a bud of the tybast flower and touches its tiny petals. So Vilde is expecting. She wonders if Vilde’s child-to-be and Eva’s child will be friends despite their age difference. She knows that Vilde always wanted that for them, for their little Russ bus troupe to all become mothers at the same time. Vilde was actually upset when she found out that Eva was pregnant at 22 for this reason, saying that they should have all planned it better. Noora thinks that whenever Vilde found out that Eva’s pregnancy wasn’t planned, it still wouldn’t have consoled her completely. Just wait ‘til she finds out that Noora isn’t planning on having kids either. 

She thought that she might be willing to have a baby. She was so happy with William. After Noora graduated from university, they had a beautiful wedding here in Oslo surrounded by friends, and her heart had felt so full with all of the love from people who loved her back. She had actually met Eva’s newborn on her wedding day, this tiny, fleshy, goblin-like creature. And William had held baby Isak in his arms and Noora could tell that he wanted it for himself one day, to hold a baby of his own, of her own. But she doesn’t think being a good mother runs in her bloodline. 

* * *

Eventually she leaves the garden and follows the pebbled pathway back to the chapel. Vilde, Sana, Chris and Eva are huddled together, inseparable. None of them can leave her after the funeral wraps up. 

“We’re coming home with you,” Vilde tells Eva adamantly. 

“Noora is going to cook dinner,” Chris says. 

“Ah, with  _ help _ !” Noora cries. 

“No, but wait, you guys… My house is a mess,” Eva says, her face pink with dried tears. 

“Ha! Have you seen my house?” Chris asks her. “You haven’t because it’s so bad! Yours will be nothing in comparison.”

“And you can’t stop us anyway,” Sana says. 

* * *

Eva lives in the same home that she lived in since she moved from Bergen. It’s so strange to Noora to walk into the house that Eva’s mother was meant to live in with her daughter. Of all the time that she has known Eva, her mother was barely there. In a way, the house has always been Eva’s, and she has always been without a mother. Noora sees herself in Noora’s mother, in that respect. She works a demanding job that requires her to be away from the apartment she shares with William at least 6 months of the year, if not more. If she had a kid, she would barely see them. They wouldn’t know each other at all. 

* * *

On the first night, all four girls stay with Eva and Isak in that big, multi-level suburban home. With them all there together, it doesn’t feel as barren. They cook, they tidy, they play with Isak, they watch movies together and they feel as young as they did in school, all together, like they don’t have lives of their own outside of Eva’s house. At the end of the movie, Eva drops her head on Noora’s shoulder and says, in the quiet that elongates between the five of them, “I just don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

They can’t leave her to sleep in that house by herself on the first night. They all sleep in the one room downstairs, watching the night sky filter through the window where all of them, at least once, would have climbed through to access Eva’s bedroom at some ungodly hour. And neither of them can bring themselves to leave on the second, either. It’s on the third when Vilde lets slip that she hasn’t told Magnus yet that she’s pregnant, so it’s on everyone’s orders for her to go and see him. It opens up the opportunity for them all to return back to their homes and regular lives, but Noora stays on. She can’t bring herself to leave Eva, not yet. 

By the fourth night, Noora decides that it’s time to start tackling the harder jobs. It’s not just surface level tidying of kids toys or cooking of light meals or keeping little Isak busy so that Eva can sort out what she needs to sort out. It’s Noora bleaching the bathroom and changing all the sheets in the house and taking out the kitchenware from their cupboards and wiping down the dust. It’s Noora cleaning out the fridge of old food and restocking it, and teaching Eva how to make Madrid style tortillas. And it’s taking Isak to school in the morning so that Eva can sleep in, and picking him up after school and letting him run around the house like a madman, his irksome eyebrows as thick as caterpillars and wriggling with the unbridled energy of a six year old. 

By the seventh night, seven days since Jonas’ funeral, it feels as if Noora has somehow slotted herself into Eva’s life. 

* * *

Noora sits at the dining table next to Eva, while her friend tries to work out the paperwork that her husband had left behind. Jonas had been working with WWF Norway, an environmental NGO. It had happened when he was coming back from a protest, when things were meant to be over, more calm. All crowd members dispersed, the drama died down, the yelling reduced to normal speaking level. He was just doing something incredibly normal, something that anyone does. He was just crossing the street. 

Eva groans and puts down the papers on the table. “I think I’m going to have to go back to university.”

Noora looks up from her laptop screen. Eva had fallen pregnant in her final year of university. It was either graduate with a massive belly or defer, and until now, it looked like Eva might have given up entirely on her higher education. “Oh? Are you going to finish your language degree?” 

“I’m going to have to do something more useful,” Eva says, picking up the papers again and sorting through them. “Maybe accounting.”

“Accounting!” Noora cries. “No, Eva. You barely got a 3 in mathematics!”

Eva laughs and Noora’s heart soars at the sound coming from her friend. “I don’t know, I’m going to have to do  _ something _ .”

Eva goes back to her paperwork, and Noora looks at the screen in front of her. She has to write three articles by Friday night and she hasn’t written more than an introduction for one of the jobs. With just two days left to complete the three pieces, she’s surely not going to be producing her best work. That old, niggling feeling returns. When she was in high school, William finished an article she wrote and submitted it to her teacher without her knowing it at the time. She will never forget Eva’s face when she read it out at this same dining table. She had been so proud, so incredulous. And it hadn’t truly been Noora’s. She tries not to, but she resents William for that. Every piece that she has ever written, she always compares to that one that William finished when she was a teenager. He made it ten times better than she could ever do, her ghostwriter. And he had been so humble about it too. If only he had been conceited, then she could hate him for it. 

“What about journalism?” Eva questions. 

“Hm?” Noora lifts her eyes and tilts her head, gazing at her friend. Eva wears her hair in a loose bun and her sweater hangs off her shoulder. Noora would tell her how sexy she looks if she wasn’t conscious of how her husband literally died just over seven days ago. 

A grin grows on Eva’s face. “What if I became a journalist?”

Noora presses her lips together in a pinched smile. “Despite what you think, journalism doesn’t actually pay very well.”

“But you’re off to Madrid and London and wherever else every other day of the year! How can you afford that if you don’t get paid well?”

Noora thinks about how to answer her. “Yeah, I work for a really good company. They pay for my flights… And you wouldn’t want to be away from Isak for so long, do you?”

“That’s true,” Eva concedes. “What about William?”

Noora raises her eyebrows and looks to one side. “What about him?”

“How does he handle you being away for so long?  _ I _ miss you an outrageous amount when you’re gone and I’m not even your partner.” 

Noora flashes Eva a shy smile. “Mm… We manage.”

Eva eyes her. “You don’t have to stay with me this long, you know. I can do alright on my own.” Noora can feel Eva watching her. Eva adds quietly, “I’m going to have to learn to be alone sooner rather than later.” 

“I’m not leaving you yet.”

“But what about William? Don’t you miss him, and your apartment? And your  _ clothes _ ? Can’t have you looking cute as a button in clothes that make me look like a daggy mum.”

Noora laughs and shakes her head. “No! I like your clothes. They’re comfortable.”

Eva brings her foot onto the chair and rests her cheek on her knee as she looks at Noora. “But you must miss your husband, right?”

“Yeah…” Noora says. She pauses, thinking of what to say. Eva must miss Jonas so much. “But William is in London right now.”

“Oh? He is?” Eva asks, turning her chin onto her kneecap. 

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

Noora shrugs. “I don’t know. He’s visiting his Dad. I told him to call me when he gets back to Oslo so, until then, I’m all yours, baby!” 

  
  


* * *

Eva doesn’t bring up William again, or ask if Noora wants to go home, and Noora is careful to not broach topics too similar so as to cut off any chance of a segue to suggest Noora might have long overstayed her welcome. It’s been over three weeks now. But Eva still needs her, still needs help when everything that’s happened weighs down on her and she can’t find a reason to stop crying. Noora’s there for her, hugging her, talking her through it. How can she leave someone in that position? It’s impossible. 

* * *

She’s sitting on the flood with Isak in her lap, and her head against Eva’s knees, Eva’s hands combing through Noora’s hair while she reads Isak the same bedtime story he has wanted to be read for the fourth night in a row. When Isak finally falls asleep in her lap, Noora puts the book aside and leans into Eva’s touch, and she coasts gently on the feeling of Eva’s soothing touch on her scalp, and the feeling of contentedness in her whole being. 

“You know, I think I might be pretty good at this,” Nora says quietly, careful not to stir the small boy in her lap. “I think I can do it.”

“Motherhood?” Eva murmurs from above her in her husky, sleepy voice. 

“Yeah. It’s not that bad.”

Before either of the adults fall asleep, Noora rouses herself and carries Isak up to his bedroom. Eva follows her, carrying the book and blanket up the stairs. Noora kneels on the floor beside Eva as she pulls the bedsheets over Isak and tucks him in, brushes his hair off his forehead and gives him a goodnight kiss. Eva needs to steady herself on Noora as she stands up, blood having been cut off from the awkward position. They giggle together, pressing their sides close, ther arms interlinked as they carry each other out of Eva’s mother’s old bedroom, which now houses Isak. 

Eva pulls the door gently shut behind them, and together they walk down the stairs to the ground level. In the midway between the stairs that lead down to Eva’s bedroom, and the stairs that lead back up to the guest bedroom, Eva and Noora hover. 

Eva grips Noora’s forearm, gently, securely, and meets Noora’s eyes and says, “You will be a great mother, Noora.”

Noora carries her certain gaze in a reflection of the day she first met Eva. In that gloomy, dinghy bar where Eva had looked so lost and dejected, and Noora had been there, offering her a light. To the cute ‘H’ that Eva sent accidentally, to the look of pure delight on Eva’s face when she first sat next to her in Spanish class. And in an instant, all of the feelings she had felt, had always felt, about Eva come rushing back to her like a sudden crack in a dam. 

She was sitting on those steps at school, trying to cheer Eva up, because a girl that beautiful ought never to be sad. And she was singing that old Justin Bieber song, unveiling a piece of herself to Eva that she was too embarrassed to tell anyone else. She had asked Eskild once why gay people always think other people are gay because too often they’re not. She never let herself wish because she knew the statistics. It was too much of a risk to wish for her wish to come true. That pessimism made her crush on Eva far less soul destroying knowing that Eva would never feel the same way. She didn’t want to have any doubt that maybe Eva might be interested in her, so she shoved those feelings away. 

And then William had turned her life upside down. She had tried to shake him off. She had. He had forced her hand. And maybe she liked that he liked her. She liked being liked. It’s an irresistible feeling, the feeling of being adored. But she hated it, and was confused by it, because William was such a cliche and she strove so much to not be the girl who got pregnant at 13 or the pretty, highest-grade attaining popular girl or the crazy party girl getting drunk every weekend. She wanted to be real, she wanted to be herself. But William wanted her so much that she became a cliche in dating him, thinking that it was what she was meant to do. To follow the path of a regular teenager - date the boy who made her chocolate milk. At least, she had thought in the start, that dating William made it easier for her to forget about how Eva didn’t like her in any other way than being friends. 

“And William,” Eva drawls, slinking toward the top of her stairs. “Will be a fantastic Dad.” 

Noora lets out a breath of air that she didn’t know she was holding in. “William…”

Eva cocks her head. “Okay. I know that look.” Eva sounds suddenly more awake at the spark of drama. “What’s going on?”

Noora drops her arms to her side and twists away from Eva and starts to head upstairs. She says, in passing, “Nothing.”

Eva grabs onto Noora’s arm and stops her in place. Eva’s hand slides down to join with Noora’s, and Noora looks down at Eva’s hand around hers. Eva’s black nail polish contrasts against her red. Her stomach tingles, a feeling which swells higher with each consecutive beat of her heart. 

“Noora. You don’t have to be strong for me. If there’s something bothering you, talk to me. That’s how we heal.”

Tears spring to her eyes as she softens into Eva’s touch and lets Eva steer her towards the couch. They sit down together, the tight fabric over the cushions pulling their two bodies thigh to thigh. Noora sits forward, her elbows on her knees and has to close her eyes when she feels Eva’s hand rubbing her back, the warmth of Eva’s palm occasionally pressing against her lower back where her turtleneck has risen. 

When Noora doesn’t say anything for several minutes, Eva prompts, “William isn’t in London, is he?”

Noora hangs her head. Eva’s massage presses slightly harder, firmer, getting to the parts of Noora’s back that are so tight and tense that she could moan at the pressure release. She presses the balls of her palms against her closed eyes so hard that when she takes her palms away, she sees blue and red dots. 

“He is in London,” Noora murmurs. 

“Okay…” 

The house is quiet, the tree-blanketed neighbourhood out the window sleeps. The tips of her fingers tingle with that same pin-pricked feeling in her stomach. 

“He thinks I’m in Madrid.”

Eva carries the admission for a moment, then questions her. “Why?”

“Because…” The unspoken sentence chokes in her throat. 

“Is that why he didn’t come to the funeral?” 

Noora opens her mouth to reply but she doesn’t know what to say. It is because of her that William didn’t come to pay his respects. She didn’t want him there, so she didn’t tell him. 

“I really needed to see you,” Noora says. She sits back on the couch and takes Eva’s hand and grips it. “I missed you the most.”

Eva smiles but her lips are tinged with a downward curve of confusion. 

“There’s…” Noora begins, but she can’t look at Eva. She blinks away tears and looks at the ceiling, and then feels Eva pulling her head into the crook of her neck. She can’t keep herself together. No longer composed, she weeps, feeling ridiculous in the process because her problems are nothing in comparison to Eva, who has lost so much. 

“It’s okay,” Eva says soothingly, patting the crown of Noora’s head. “You’re doing so well.”

Noora sniffles and wets her lips and says, “There’s another woman.”

She can hear Eva’s disapproving grunt through Noora’s ear pressed against her chest. “How is there another woman? How dare he.”

Noora nestles into Eva but keeps her face facing the ceiling, not wanting to get her tears and snot over Eva’s sweater. “It’s… I don’t have a great amount of evidence...”

“Oh?”

“He… I was dropping something off for him at his Dad’s office and I saw something…”

“The woman?”

“Not… exactly…”

Eva moves from patting Eva’s head to stroking her shoulder and upper arm. 

Noora lets out a ragged sigh. “I just know there’s something going on… William gets what he wants.”

“He’s a traditional, masculinist bastard.”

Noora paws at Eva. “I don’t know if it’s true but… maybe… I also wanted an out. The stuff in our past… and the complications with Niko coming back again… and the fact that I feel so stifled and bored by him…”

Eva presses a small kiss to Noora’s forehead and she feels warm all over, the prickly feeling swamping her, making her not numb but susceptible to Eva’s every seductive move. The feelings 

“Lately… I have been taking long work trips away from him and when I come back, it’s like meeting him for the first time again, as if I know nothing of his backstory, of the history we have together. I am frequently reminded of how much of a cliche he is, of how  _ violent _ he is. But when I talk with him, he…”

“Does this thing where he tries to change your opinion to his own?” Eva offers. 

Noora tilts her head to look at Eva’s face and says, “Yes! He gaslights me and it’s so… it’s so difficult to argue my point in front of him because he thinks he’s right from the start. He doesn’t consider my opinion in the moment at all. He makes it seem like everything is okay, and then I go away and when I have time to think about it on my own, I don’t like the way things went down. I don’t like how he treated me, or overrode what I was trying to say. It’s like he doesn’t value my individuality.” 

“You’ve talked about this before. Weren’t you going to go to therapy?” 

Noora settles back into the crook of Eva’s neck. “I just… I think this relationship has reached its end.”

“You haven’t confronted him about cheating.” It’s not a question, a statement. 

She turns her face into Eva’s neck, embarrassed to speak any further but persevering. “Yeah. I was going to, but then he started talking about wanting to have a baby with me. And I didn’t know how to tell him that the thought of lying down in bed with him and feeling his hard dick flush against my pelvis won’t ever, and will never turn me on.”

Eva lets out a shocked laugh. “What? That went somewhere else.”

Eva’s laughter encourages Noora to pull back from hiding. She sits back, the front of her body twisted on the couch to face Eva and Eva’s hand drops down to the space that’s now between them. 

“Seriously. There was a reason why I always said that I would only have sex after marriage and that’s not just because it’s sensible, but because of my trauma with the male penis.”

“The male penis,” Eva repeats, her eyebrows rising. 

“Yeah,” Noora exhales, but smiles, knowing how ridiculous she sounds. “My relationship with William was pretty good when all we did was make out. I could put up with his erections knowing that he wasn’t allowed to do anything with them but after marriage, there was nothing really stopping us from having sex.”

“Noora. You know that’s… Well I just don’t know what to say. That’s anti-feminist?”

“It’s not that bad! He never made me put my mouth around it or even touch it if I didn’t want to.”

“Noora!” Eva gasps, sounding slightly horrified but laughing at the same time. 

“But if I’m not with William anymore, then I don’t have to feel dick at all,” she insists. 

“Oh my god, Noora.”

Noora catches her lower lip between her teeth. “What?”

“Are you coming out to me right now?”

Noora’s cheek flush deeply. “What? No!” 

Eva pulls her feet onto the couch and twists to face Noora. “No, you totally are coming out to me right now.”

“Coming out?? As… as what?” Noora says, trying to defend herself despite her thoroughly blushed cheeks. “You already know I’m a feminist.”

“A repressed lesbian!”

“A repressed--” Noora chokes off her own sentence. 

“Yeah. It all makes sense now. You finally realised that William is not the right person for you, you haven’t left my house in two months, and you’re going to admit that you love me.”

“Eva!” Noora squeaks. “That’s not true!”

“Oh yeah? Are you going to admit that you hate me?”

Noora nudges Eva’s thigh. “No! Of course I love you,” she says, and it comes easy, but it also feels like the most honest thing she’s ever said. “I’ve always loved you.”

“There you go: repressed lesbian,” Eva laughs. 

“No, but… How did…”

Eva leans forward and takes Noora’s hand, her thumbs caressing the top of Noora’s hand. “It’s okay. I love you too.”

“Uh?” Noora utters, and repeats the same confused sound when Eva lifts Noora’s hand to her lips and presses a kiss to her hand. “But, but, but? Jonas?”

“Um, Noora,” Eva begins, “ _ You’ve _ always known that I’m bi.”

“Have I??”

“Yeah, you saw me and Vilde kiss, right?”

“But I thought you were just really drunk and… and desperate.” She winces. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s fair. But do you know what it made me wonder?” 

“...What?”

“How different would my life have been if I never let William interrupt us on those steps at school.  _ You know you love me, I know you care _ .”

Noora beams. “I can’t believe you still remember that song!”

“Are you kidding? It’s Noora’s song, of course I have to remember it.  _ Are we an item? Girl quit playin’. _ ”

Noora quietly sings the next line, wary not to wake up the sleeping boy upstairs. “ _ We’re just friends, what are you-- _ ”

Before she can finish the line, Eva dips forward and kisses her. Noora is too surprised to move at first, but once she clocks that it’s  _ Eva _ kissing her, Eva, who she has loved, always loved, and has always wanted, she lets herself kiss back. One of Eva’s hands cup Noora’s cheek and the other threads around her hair to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. The prickles in Noora’s body flush all through her like a wave and kissing Eva is, for the first time in a long time, something that makes her feel like she’s in control. Not so much in control of her body, but what she feels, what emotions come out of kissing Eva, of holding her in her arms, of being with Eva and talking with her and living with her, taking care of each other… It doesn’t feel like she’s haphazardly digging a new channel in the earth through which her river of emotions should run through. There’s no talking herself up to touching another person, there’s no mentally preparing herself for the fake cries of pleasure she ought to make. What she feels when she’s with Eva runs its own natural, unhindered course. She wants to touch Eva, she’s unafraid for her best friend to hear the erotic sounds she makes, she looks forward to spending time with Eva and hearing about her day. And she knows that, together with Eva, they will be able to raise Isak. 

* * *

The five, near-thirty year old women meet in a cafe not too far from Nissen to meet Vilde’s newborn baby. 

“If I could have given her four first names,” Vilde is saying, unable to take her eyes away from her baby girl, “I would have named her after each of you. But Magnus didn’t want her to have a long hyphenated name so we just stuck with the one name.”

Sana eyes the way Eva’s right arm is lounged over Noora’s shoulder, and her left stretched to rest on Noora’s thigh as they all sit around the small cafe table. Sana sips on her coffee and says, “Magnus, sure.”

Vilde tears her eyes away from her baby and looks adamantly at Sana. “Seriously. He didn’t agree with me, so we couldn’t name her after any of my best friends. We make decisions as a  _ team _ .”

Chris is the first to say something. “So uh, what’s going on here?” 

Vilde follows Chris pointing her teaspoon in the direction of Noora and Eva and slowly looks between the two women who can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. 

“Ah… hello?” Vilde stammers. 

Noora catches the tip of her tongue between her teeth and grins, holding Eva’s gaze before grinning back at Vilde. She can’t help but blush, she must be beet red. 

No one says anything for a bit, just Chris and Vilde staring at them expecting an answer. It’s Sana who speaks next. She puts down her coffee and rolls her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?” When still no one is willing to say anything, she continues, “They’re seeing each other.”

“They’re seeing each other!” Vilde cries, her surprise so sudden that her baby gurgles in her arms in response. This calls Vilde’s attention back to her baby but she keeps flitting her eyes up at Eva and Noora, as if checking that they are still in front of her. 

Chris sits back and grins. “So you really never left Eva’s?” 

“Yep,” Noora says, grinning right back. 

“And you really are  _ lesbians _ ??” Vilde questions, her voice so high it could shatter glass. 

“Well,  _ she’s _ a lesbian,” Eva says, wincing, but giving Noora a squeeze. “But yeah, we’re gay. We’re dating. We’re… an item.”

Vilde blinks at them. 

Sana lets out a relieved sigh. “Finally.” 

Chris laughs, and Noora can’t help but catch the laughing bug too. It spreads around the table, all five of them laughing and smiling, and it’s so freeing to live like this. To be true, to be loved. She drops a kiss on Eva’s forehead and squeezes her arms around her and she feels… full. 

  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think <3


End file.
